Elfshadow

Ten

As he rode, Danilo pondered all that had transpired during the night. He would have given much to have heard Arilyn’s version of their story. He did not imagine that he fared well in the telling.

Danilo was accustomed to being thought a fool. Even within his own family, he bore his father’s stern disapproval and the scorn of his older brothers. This he accepted as part of his role, but when he saw a foppish Waterdhavian dandy reflected back to him from the mirror of Arilyn’s elven eyes, he found that he had little stomach for the charade.

Perhaps it was time to make some changes.

Riding swiftly, Danilo soon reached the home of the archmage. Blackstaff Tower looked impenetrable. It was, but only to the uninitiated. A series of powerful magical wards and devices, as well as a twenty-foot stone wall, protected the tower. By all appearances, the place had no doors at all and windows only on the upper floors.

Danilo dismounted at the gate and muttered a cantrip, casting an easy spell that would keep his horse tethered. Another quick spell opened the gate. Danilo strode quickly through the courtyard, and, after knocking on the tower and softly speaking his name, he walked through an invisible door into the wizard’s reception hall.

Khelben “Blackstaff” Arunsun descended the spiral staircase to meet his nephew. “I see you’ve finally managed the door,” he observed.

Danilo grinned and rubbed an imaginary lump on his head. “Missed it enough times, wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed. Well, come up, come up. I’ve been waiting for your report,” Khelben said, gesturing for Danilo to follow him up to the parlor.

Steaming cups of roasted chicory rested on a small table between two comfortable chairs. Danilo cast his a longing look but insisted, “I haven’t much time. Arilyn is at Loene’s house on Waterdeep Way. I need to get back before I’m missed.”

“Of course.” Khelben settled down and took up his cup. “Have you anything concerning the assassin’s identity?”

“Not yet. Back in Evereska, Arilyn was followed by a thug from Waterdeep. In his possession was a snuffbox bearing the sigil of Perendra.”

Khelben choked on a mouthful of chicory, and Danilo nodded grimly. “In answer to your next question, yes, I’m sure it was Perendra’s mark. She was one of the first to die, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Khelben said as soon as he could speak. “Unlike the later victims, she was not marked with the brand. It is possible that her death was not the work of our assassin. Did that man admit to killing Perendra?”

“No. He claimed he’d gotten the box from an elf. He was obviously enspelled to die before he could reveal the villain’s name. Arilyn, I assume, intends to track him or her down.”

“Good. Stay with her as she does. Now the sword. Tell me everything you can think of.”

Danilo perched on the edge of his chair, took a deep breath, and spoke fast. “It’s elvencrafted and very old, made of some dull but very strong metal I don’t recognize. There are runes down its length—Espruar, I think, though a form I’ve never seen—and also on the sheath. There’s a large gem on the hilt, and it—”

“Stop!” Khelben demanded. Alarm etched itself across the wizard’s face as he leaned intently toward his nephew. “There’s a moonstone in the hilt? Are you sure?”

“No, it’s a topaz.”

“Did she say anything about this stone?” Khelben urged.

“Actually, yes. She told me that her teacher, Kymil Nimesin, had it set in the hilt to balance the blade.”

“I see.” Khelben relaxed. “Good. I didn’t know Arilyn was trained by Kymil Nimesin, but it figures. He’s one of the best armsmasters in the Realms, and he works for the Harpers from time to time. Go on.”

“The sword cuts through metal and bone as if it were slicing a summermelon. Its strike is unusually fast, although I think a good deal of that is Arilyn. According to her, the sword cannot shed innocent blood. Just how it ascertains innocence, I don’t know. It warns of danger—”

“How?”

“It glows. It also glows sometimes when Arilyn draws it, but sometimes it doesn’t. I can’t figure out any kind of pattern to that.”

“And if anyone else were to draw it?”

“They would get fried like a flounder,” Danilo concluded flatly.

“Of course,” Khelben muttered. “It is a hereditary blade, after all.” He arched an eyebrow at Danilo. “You didn’t find this out through personal experience, I trust?”

“Unfortunately, I did. Fortunately, I barely touched it.”

Khelben chuckled at Danilo’s droll tone, but quickly sobered. “Anything else?

“It can also warn Arilyn of danger by sending dreamwarnings.”

“Interesting. All right, what else?”

Danilo told his uncle what had transpired, starting with the inn near Evereska and describing the mysterious assault at the House of Good Spirits.

“Poison,” muttered Khelben, visibly annoyed with his own lack of perception. “Of course. Why do you think the assassin attacked you? Have you reason to think that your alliance to the Harpers is suspected?”

The young man looked a little chagrined. “No, but my sense of chivalry certainly is. There was but one bed, and I had it. The chamber was very dark, and I suppose the assassin presumed that a gentleman would take the floor.”

“I see. You’re all right now?”

“I didn’t get much of the poison. If you’re through, I have a few quick questions.” Danilo leveled his gaze on Khelben. “Why are you so concerned with Arilyn’s sword? What does it have to do with this assassin?”

“It is possible that there is no connection,” Khelben admitted. “Given the sword’s history, however, it was something that I could not ignore.”

“I think it is time for a history lesson. In more ways than one, I have a personal interest in this.” The young man spoke quietly, but he held up his branded palm for Khelben to see. “But please, make it quick.”

Khelben nodded. “Yes, it’s time you knew.” He passed one hand over his salt-and-pepper hair and took a deep breath.

“Before you were born, Arilyn’s parents inadvertently used the magic of the sword to open a portal between these mountains and the elven kingdom of Evermeet. The damnable gate stayed open, and the best any of us could do was obscure it and move it elsewhere. The elves ordered Z’beryl to dismantle the sword. Arilyn’s father took the magic moonstone away with him. As it is today, the moonblade carries potent magic. Restored, it could be used to unveil the gate to Evermeet.”

Khelben concluded his terse recitation with a sigh. “So there it is. If there was a chance that someone knew of this gate and was after Arilyn for her sword, we had to know about it.”

“I see,” Danilo said, though his mind was racing through all that Khelben had told him. Given the fabled riches of the elven kingdom of Evermeet, an open portal would be an invitation to plunder. The elves of Evermeet were fiercely reclusive, and the island was guarded by the powerful elven navy of Queen Amlauruil, by lethal coral reefs, by hosts of mysterious sea creatures allied with the elves, and by ever-shifting energy fields that could reduce an invading ship to ashes and seafoam. In comparison to these defenses, any guard that could be posted at the magic portal would seem a small obstacle. Secrecy was the best protection for the gate to Evermeet, for if knowledge of this portal spread, the last stronghold of the elves would be compromised and the very existence of the dwindling race threatened. Danilo wondered how Arilyn would react to the knowledge that she was in part the keeper of the elven kingdom.

“By the way,” Danilo added, “why didn’t you tell me that Arilyn was elven?”

“A half-elf. Her father was human, more or less.” Khelben said. “Whenever I see her, she’s usually passing as human.”

“Indeed. She was a Sembian courtesan when we met. Great disguise,” Danilo reminisced with a grin. “I managed to recognize her from Rafe Silverspur’s ring, and, believe it or not, from your portrait.”

Khelben smiled sourly at his nephew’s good-natured insult. “Which reminds me: according to your mother, my esteemed brother-in-law is none too happy with his ‘shiftless son’ for taking off with ‘some fancy pleasure girl.’ You might check in with him when time permits.”

“Another lecture from dear father. The gods know I’ve been such a disappointment to him,” Danilo drawled flippantly.

Khelben eyed the young man keenly, sensing a new note in his act. “Thinking of quitting?”

“What, being a disappointment?”

“No. Playing the fool in the service of the Harpers.”

Danilo shrugged. “What options do I have?”

“There are always options,” Khelben asserted. “After this assignment, if you like, come out in the open. You’re a good agent. The Harpers would surely welcome you.”

Danilo stood to go, his face more reflective that Khelben had ever seen it. “You know, Uncle, I just might take you up on that.”

Moving swiftly through the magic door, Danilo left Blackstaff Tower, mounted his horse, and sped back toward the townhouse on Waterdeep Way. To the east, the sun was peeking over the roofs of the city, casting long shadows along the still-quiet streets.

One of those shadows suddenly moved and began to follow Danilo Thann toward Waterdeep Way.

Loene was curled with catlike coziness amid the silken pillows of her couch, her slippered feet tucked beneath her. At the moment, she looked as content as Arilyn had ever seen her. “An interesting tale,” said Loene.

“Worth the price of that sherry?” Arilyn asked dryly, glancing at the half-empty decanter on the table that sat between Loene’s couch and the more spartan chair she herself had chosen. The half-elf’s first glass, which was almost untasted, rested in her hands. The rest of the sherry had been consumed by her host, who was renowned for her ability to hold the stuff.

“And then some,” the woman said, raising her fourth goblet for a toast. “Here’s to a happy ending.”

“Hear, hear,” Arilyn agreed, her face turning serious at the thought of what lay before her.

Graves chose that moment to poke his head through the door of the study. “There will be two for breakfast, madame?”

Loene smiled invitingly at Arilyn. “Will you stay? Graves makes the best scones in Waterdeep, you know.”

Arilyn was reluctant to delay her search longer, but she needed to eat sometime. “Thank you, yes, but I must leave soon.”

“I understand.” Loene turned to the servant. “There will be three, then, unless our other guest prefers a tray.”

The servant’s eyebrows rose. “Our other guest has already departed.”

“What?” Arilyn rose slowly to her feet. “Danilo’s gone? Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes,” Graves said. He held up a length of rope. “By the window, no less,” he muttered, shaking his head in self-recrimination. “I let the peacock strut right past me.”

“The fool,” Arilyn blazed, slamming her fist onto the serving table as she stalked from the room. Loene lunged to save the wobbling sherry decanter, then she followed Arilyn into the hall, clutching the cherished spirits to her as she went.

“Let him go.” Loene laid a restraining hand on Arilyn’s arm.

The half-elf shook her off. “He’s not strong enough to travel.”

The woman snorted. “Don’t believe it for a minute. That young man was perfectly normal—whatever that may mean in his case.”

Arilyn went very still. “I don’t understand.”

Loene’s eyes were compassionate. “My dear, he was fine last night. He did not need that potion.”

“How do you know?”

“You really need to ask?” Loene asked. “Unlike you, I have no aversion to using poisons when the occasion demands. I know what’s out there, I know the effects and the signs.”

“You gave him an antidote,” Arilyn pointed out. “Why?

“Apricot brandy. I suspected that your friend wasn’t really poisoned, and his rapid recovery proved me right.”

“What about that brand?”

“Well, all right,” Loene conceded. “Perhaps he did get just a touch of some poison when he was branded, but the effects had certainly faded before he got here. You were too concerned to notice.”

Arilyn nodded slowly. It made perfect sense. Danilo was most anxious to reach safety. Having done so, what better way to ensure his continued safety than to sneak away, leaving her and the assassin far behind? Arilyn couldn’t blame him, especially after the attack on his life. Why, then, did she feel betrayed? “He is a coward,” she seethed. “I’m well rid of that one.”

“Granted,” Loene said, understanding Arilyn’s anger for what it was. “Forget him, and let’s have some of Graves’s incomparable scones.” She brandished the decanter. “We can wash them down with the rest of this.”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Arilyn replied. “I have to leave right away. Danilo Thann has a tongue that wags at both ends. He will spread this tale all over the city by sunset. If I’m ever to find this assassin, I must do it soon.”

“You will return and let me know how things turn out?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Loene grinned. “It’s so comforting to be understood by one’s friends.” She handed the sherry decanter to the ever-present Graves and stepped forward to clasp Arilyn’s forearms in the traditional farewell of adventurers. “Until swords part, then.”

Arilyn absently repeated the words, her mind already on her quest. As soon as Loene released her, the half-elf reached into her bag for a tiny pot and a comb. She spread a dark unguent over her face for a sun-weathered look, then combed her hair over her ears. Laying her hand on the moonblade’s grip, the half-elf closed her eyes and envisioned a human lad. Loene’s chuckle informed her that the transformation was complete.

It was a simple illusion. Arilyn’s shirt and trousers were suddenly a little looser, and they appeared to have been made of the rough linsey-woolsey that was often used for the work clothes of growing lads. A wrinkled cap held Arilyn’s hair in place over her ears and shadowed her elven eyes; work gloves concealed her slender hands. The rest was a matter of stance, movement, and voice.

“What a handsome lad you make,” Loene teased. “You almost make me wish I were ten years younger.”

“Only ten?” Graves asked with a rare flash of humor.

Arilyn’s smile of response was quick and halfhearted. “Please be careful, Loene. A visit from me might be enough to lure this assassin. Watch yourself.”

“I will,” the woman promised.

“As will I,” came the servant’s quiet voice.

Arilyn met Graves’s eyes and nodded her thanks, knowing that his words held no small assurance. With his thin, ascetic face, sparse hair, and elegant black attire, Elliot Graves was the very picture of a proper majordomo. In truth, the man was gutter bred and raised, a fearsome fighter who could carry a grudge for a dragon’s lifetime. He was utterly loyal to Loene, and she would not be better protected by a score of Cormyr’s best Purple Dragons.

As Arilyn walked into the courtyard she tried not to envy Loene, but she wondered what it would be like to have a friend as devoted as Elliot Graves. She’d always walked alone, and she wasn’t sure that she could do otherwise. Certainly her treatment of Danilo had not been the sort that inspired loyalty.

Resolutely Arilyn put all such thoughts aside. She had long wished to be rid of Danilo Thann, and now she had got her wish. It was time to throw all her effort into ridding the world of the Harper Assassin.

Arilyn circled around to the back of the house. There she agilely climbed the fence that separated Loene’s property from Gem Street, a small, lightly traveled alley. She knew better than to try to climb the fence from the other side, which was protected from intruders by magical wards.

Dropping lightly to her feet, Arilyn checked about to make sure she was alone and unobserved. Reassured, she thrust her hands into her pockets and ambled down Gem Street with long swinging strides, a human lad, set on some family errand.

By the time Danilo reached Loene’s house, Waterdeep Way was already awake with the bustle of morning commerce. Since he was cloaked by neither darkness nor invisibility, he slipped around the back of the house to Gem Street and quietly dismounted. He spat on his hands and prepared to climb the fence.

The instant Danilo touched the iron, a magical current sped up his arms. He jumped away from the fence with a sharp oath. There had to be another way in. Scratching his head in puzzlement, he squinted up at the guest room window.

His escape rope no longer hung there. “No rope,” he said with a soft groan.

So his departure had been noted, probably by that deceptively starched and pressed servant of Loene’s. Since Danilo doubted that Graves’s silence could be purchased, he would have to talk fast to explain to Arilyn why he’d left by the window. Or better yet, Danilo thought, maybe he could get back into the house and make off with Arilyn before Graves had a chance to inform the women of his desertion.

A large elm shaded the rear courtyard, its branches just of out reach. Fortunately, Danilo had climbed a lot of trees in his youth. He improvised a spell, a simple cantrip meant to move stationery objects. One of the large branches of the elm, responding to the magic summons, bent over the fence and stretched leafy hands out to the young mage. Danilo jumped, and as he caught hold of the branch he released his spell. The branch sprang back to its natural position, flinging the nobleman high into the tree.

He hit hard and tumbled through layers of foliage, grabbing wildly for a hold until his hands closed on a branch. Pulling himself up onto a large limb, he straddled the branch and leaned wearily against the tree’s trunk. His face stung from a dozen scratches, and when he brushed a strand of hair away from face his hand came away tinged with blood. Danilo shook his head in disbelief. “Maybe all those people who think me a fool are onto something,” he muttered.

Once Danilo’s sense of balance was restored, the rest of the ascent was easy. He climbed the sprawling elm and slipped in through the guest room window without further incident.

From the floor below, he heard the clatter of dishes. He’d have to hurry. After pouring some cold water from a pitcher of fine Shou porcelain into a matching washbowl, Danilo dashed the water over his scratched face and raked his hands through his hair to tame it somewhat. Taking a deep breath to steady his wits, he manufactured his most charming and inane smile and stuck it firmly in place. He followed the sounds downstairs and into the dining room.

To his surprise, Danilo found Loene sitting alone at a long table of polished wood, staring absently into a glass of sherry. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully as he sauntered into the room. “I see I beat Arilyn down to breakfast. Is she still abed?”

Loene put down her glass and appraised Danilo for a silent moment. “Rough night?”

The nobleman smiled sheepishly. “Cut myself shaving.”

“Really. What do you shave with? The talons of a goshawk?”

“Dull blade.” Danilo selected a pear from the fruit bowl on the table and took a bite. “You were starting to tell me where I might find Arilyn?”

“Was I?”

Maintaining his facade, not to mention his temper, was getting more difficult by the moment. Danilo took another bite of the pear and chewed slowly. While he was still collecting himself, his hostess spoke again. “Sit down, won’t you? I’m getting a crick in my neck staring up at you.”

The nobleman obligingly took a seat. Loene stretched out her hand and picked a leaf from of his hair. “By the way,” she said in an innocent voice, “would you care for some more apricot brandy?”

Danilo stared blankly for a time. “The potion?”

“Very good.”

“I thought that stuff tasted familiar.” With a resigned sigh, he held up his hands in surrender. “You win. Now, can we please talk about Arilyn?”

Loene’s smile reminded him of a cream-sated tabby. “You can count on it.”

“She didn’t leave, by chance?”

“By chance, she did.”

“Damn. I should have known better than to let that girl out of my sight. I am a fool,” Danilo chided himself.

“Maybe, maybe not,” the woman replied, eyeing him keenly.

“Do you have any idea where she went? Any at all?”

Loene smiled and stretched, catlike. “I might know where Arilyn Moonblade went. I might even be persuaded to tell you.”

The true son of a Waterdeep merchant, Danilo did not miss the speculative gleam in the woman’s eyes. With a sigh of resignation, he folded his arms on the table and glared at Loene. “At what price?” he asked.

Before answering, his hostess poured another glass of sherry and pushed it toward Danilo. “Arilyn told me her side of the story,” she purred. “Why don’t you tell me yours.”